The cafeteria was loud in a way that made her chest ache. Plates clattered, voices overlapped, and the smell of reheated food—greasy, bland, artificial—clung to the air like a heavy fog. She clutched her tray, moving through the maze of students, searching for a familiar face that didn't really exist.
Her fake friends sat at a table near the window, laughing too loudly, their gestures exaggerated, the kind of laughter that demanded attention. She took a deep breath and carried her tray over, setting it down with careful precision so as not to disrupt the fragile illusion of belonging.
One of them, a girl with sharp eyes and a grin that never reached her lips, suddenly stepped closer.
"Hey, stupid ass bitch," she said, her tone light, joking, like she was tossing a harmless pebble.
Her heart skipped. She forced her face into a neutral mask, nodding as if nothing had happened. "Yeah, sure," she murmured, hiding the sting behind practiced indifference.
But then the girl spun around abruptly, her voice just loud enough for the others. "Bro I just called #### a stupid ass bitch!"
The table went quiet for a second, then all eyes turned toward her. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, the familiar rush of panic that came with being the center of attention in the wrong way. Every heartbeat thudded in her ears, every pair of eyes a spotlight she didn't want.
She didn't flinch. She didn't apologize. She didn't retreat. Instead, she smiled faintly, took a bite of her food, and looked away as if nothing had happened. Pretending was a skill she had perfected over years—every glance, every word, every gesture carefully crafted to blend in, to survive.
Her fake friends exchanged quick, secretive looks, whispering just enough for her to know they were judging, but she kept her mask in place. Inside, the hurt gnawed at her, a slow, quiet ache that refused to show. She had learned long ago that showing anything would only make her a target.
So, she sat there, eating her food in silence, the laughter around her like a distant storm she could hear but not reach. And when the bell rang, she gathered her tray, walked away, and carried the invisible weight of every word, every joke, every betrayal, tucked carefully beneath her jacket.